


Conference Weekend

by PurpleFairy84



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD John, Post Reichenbach, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleFairy84/pseuds/PurpleFairy84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are invited to join Lestrade and the team on a residential conference weekend in the country… revealing many things about the duo that people don’t usually see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conference Weekend

Friday

“This is going to be hell.” Sherlock moaned as they walked up the expansive driveway to the manor house they would call home for the next few days.  
“You wanted to come to this conference… don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind? It took 4 hours to get here!” John sounded exasperated. It was hot and he really didn’t enjoy public transport for any length of time.  
“Not the conference. I can’t wait to hear what these ‘professors’ have to say… new ideas about forensic science they boast! Better be good!”  
He turned and saw his companion’s confused look.  
“John I’m talking about having to spend the weekend with … that lot!” he gestured towards a group from Scotland Yard who were seated outside having a beer. “It’s going to be unbearable listening to their pathetic twaddle.”  
“I’m sure you won’t have to socialise with them much, hopefully you’ll get a room on your own and you can disappear when it all gets too much.” John suggested helpfully.  
“I need a cigarette.” The detective sighed mournfully.  
John decided to ignore him and instead walked up to the reception to sign in.  
A delightful woman offered to show them to their accommodation and they followed her gratefully, John couldn’t wait to set his bag down and collapse on to the bed for a snooze. He looked at Sherlock laden down with two large bags… what had he packed anyway?!  
The pair traipsed through the corridors after the receptionist until they walked in to a large lounge with a fire place, comfy sofas and lots of books. The woman stopped to point out the door on the far side. John thanked her and opened the door for his friend.  
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” Sherlock surveyed the large dormitory of bunk beds with disgust. “Seriously? We are sleeping in here? With half the police force?”  
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” John placated him but inside he knew this was not going to go down well. He moved to a bunk up against the wall near the door and threw his bag on to the top bed.  
Sherlock sighed and placed his belongings on the bottom bunk. “I won’t be sleeping in here.” He stated simply, before walking back out in to the Lounge and throwing himself in to an armchair by a bookcase.  
“This is gonna be great!” John muttered sarcastically to himself as he jumped down off the bed. He felt the need to sit outside for a bit and avoid Sherlock’s bad mood at the sleeping arrangements, so off he wandered with his newspaper to find a seat in the sun.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The temperature outside dropped as evening approached and the police officers made their way inside for dinner. John joined Lestrade and Donovan at their table in the dining hall and proceeded to wolf down his lasagne at speed.  
“Hungry?” Sally asked cheekily.  
“Haven’t had chance to eat much recently.” John told them between mouthfuls “We hardly stop when there’s a case on.”  
“Where is Sherlock anyway?” Greg asked.  
“Oh he rarely eats… digestion slows his brain down apparently. Besides it’s a Friday… he doesn’t usually eat on Fridays.” John answered, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.  
“Ooo kay…” Sally raised her eyebrows at Greg across the table.  
Wondering why he even felt bemused anymore at Sherlock’s behaviour, Greg started up a conversation about the lectures on the next day and the three of them chatted amiably for a while.  
“This is really nice… do you think they’ll let me have seconds?” John asked.  
“Here.” A fresh portion of lasagne appeared to John’s right and he looked up to find Sherlock holding it.  
“Cheers.” The doctor took the plate and tucked in to his second helping.  
Sherlock sat in the seat opposite and leaned forwards, resting his chin on to his clasped hands.  
“Not eating Sherlock?” Greg asked.  
“I don’t need to.”  
Greg and Sally smiled at each other.  
“John.” The detective’s piercing blue eyes bore in to his friend’s across the table. “You brought some with you didn’t you?”  
“Nope.” He started tucking in to his lasagne again.  
“John, please…”  
“No Sherlock, I really didn’t bring any with me. Cold turkey is cold turkey.”  
“I just need one cigarette John, just one! You don’t understand… I’m bored and surrounded by morons… I need a cigarette!” Sherlock’s voice had risen to a shout, drawing the attention of the whole dining hall.  
“Can’t help you I’m afraid.” John replied calmly.  
Sherlock snatched the lasagne off his annoying friend and took it back to the serving hatch before stalking out.  
“He is unbelievable!” Sally exclaimed. “How can you let him treat you like that?”  
“Oh you get used to it.” John said quietly, hoping people would stop staring at him soon. “I’m sure Greg understands what it feels like to go through nicotine withdrawal.”   
“Well it does affect you badly I have to admit, but I’m not sure I’d be that rude to anyone because of it.” Greg stared at John amazed that he was defending the arrogant detective.  
“It’s just his way. He acts like a child when he doesn’t get what he wants.” John saw their frowning faces peering at him. “It’s fine, honestly! He gets like that regularly when he wants a cigarette. Just ignore him.”  
“Well I think he’s out of order.” Sally stated before getting back to her dinner.  
John decided he’d had enough of this conversation. He got up to go sit in the lounge and found Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, so the tired doctor grabbed a book off the shelf and settled in to an armchair by the fire.

 

Friday night

Everyone had gone to bed for the night, except for Sherlock who remained reclining in the lounge.  
Greg Lestrade was sleeping soundly until a noise in the dormitory woke him. He kept his eyes shut not wanting to wake up but listened out for the noise again. It sounded like muffled moaning with a few random words thrown in.  
What was going on? He’d have to wake up properly and find out.  
He stood quickly from his bed at the bottom of a bunk and wandered around quietly in the semi-dark, trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from.  
The moaning became louder and more panicked. “No… no, no!”   
On high alert now Greg woke Sally who was sleeping in the bunk next to him. He shook her shoulders gently and she opened her eyes in surprise. “Something’s up.” He whispered and she followed quickly.  
The shouts became more coherent and pained “You can’t … no… please… don’t!”  
That’s when Greg and Sally came across John’s bunk. He was on the top bed squirming about, covered in sweat and breathing loudly.  
“Looks like hell of a dream… we should wake him before he wakes the whole room.” Greg motioned for Sally to climb up and give the troubled doctor a nudge.  
She stood up on the bottom bunk and put her hands on John’s chest. “John… John wake up.” She whispered. He started batting her arms away, struggling against her.”   
“John!” She said more loudly and the doctor shot up in a panic.   
He looked around wildly with tears in his eyes and started hyperventilating, his breaths coming in short noisy bursts. His shaking hands grasped at his chest as he struggled to breath.  
“John come down here.” Sally tried to convince the distressed doctor to relocate to the bottom bunk so she could help him properly but he didn’t seem to hear her.  
At that moment the door to the dorm swung open, shining light in to the room. Sherlock, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown strode in and headed straight for his friend.  
He stood on the lower bunk next to Sally and leaned over to speak softly to John. “Shhh… calm down John.” He soothed while rubbing his back gently.  
Sherlock saw more people had begun to wake at the commotion and was mindful that John would be embarrassed if they all witnessed his panic attack. “Come on John, let’s get you out of here and get you a cup of tea.”  
John couldn’t reply and continued hyperventilating painfully.  
“John, come on. Climb down this ladder, I’ll be right behind you.” Sherlock guided the shaking doctor towards the edge of the bed and he started his decent. As he got about half way down he became very dizzy and leant on his friend heavily for the rest of the climb.  
Sherlock put his arms around his friend and helped him walk in to the lounge with Sally and Greg in tow.  
Sherlock sat next to John on the sofa and tried to get his breathing under control while a worried Greg and Sally crouched on the floor next to him.  
Sherlock had to grab John by the shoulders to ensure he was listening to him. “John, I’m going to count slowly to ten … 1… 2… 3… 4… 5….” It didn’t work John’s breathing was getting worse and Sherlock could see fear in the man’s eyes.  
“OK let’s try another one… errr… I don’t have a bag… cup your hands around your mouth and breath in to them.” John didn’t pay any attention.  
“Like this John” Sherlock tried to show him what to do. He wasn’t complying. Out of desperation to get John to breath more slowly Sherlock tried to sit behind him and put his own hands around the doctor’s mouth but it made John panic even more.  
“OK, OK.. this isn’t working.” Sherlock watched as John looked like he was about to lose consciousness.   
Out of ideas, he pulled him in to a close embrace, putting his arms around the shaking man’s back while John’s head rested on his right shoulder. “It’s ok… it’s ok… I’m safe… you’re safe… everything’s alright……. I’m right here.” Sherlock whispered in his friend’s ear, holding him in a protective hug.  
Sherlock sensed that John’s breathing was becoming more normal but that the doctor’s emotions were about to get the better of him.  
“Donovan can you go get him a blanket and Lestrade could you make him a cup of tea?”  
“Good idea.” Replied Sally.  
“Yeah sure… would you like a drink yourself?” Greg asked as he stood to leave.  
“Coffee, two sugars, thanks.”  
As the pair walked away towards the small kitchen on the side of the lounge, they heard Sherlock whisper “They’ve gone John.” Greg turned to look back and Sally followed his line of sight to watch John’s shoulders start to shake against Sherlock’s chest, the taller man holding him tightly.  
“He knew he needed to cry.” Sally stated quietly and turned to enter the kitchen with Greg, not wanting to invade his privacy any more.  
They busied themselves in the kitchen, taking their time to make four hot drinks.  
“I wonder what that was about.” Greg thought aloud.  
“Whatever just happened, it ain’t an uncommon occurrence by the look of it.” Greg looked at her questioningly. “Well Sherlock hasn’t asked once ‘what’s wrong’ or anything like that. He just leapt in to action to deal with the panic attack. Doctor Watson obviously has these nightmares frequently.”  
“Post-Traumatic Stress do you think? From the war?”   
“Could be… but… I don’t know.” Sally mused. “Something Sherlock said… what was it… ah yes he said things like ‘I’m safe. I’m right here.’ Made me wonder if it’s something to do with Sherlock’s faked suicide.”  
Greg looked impressed “You notice more about people than I do Sally.”  
“Doubt Sherlock would agree with you on that Sir.” Sally grinned. “Think we’ve given them enough time?”  
“Yep, let’s get back in there, check that Doctor Watson is ok.” Greg carried the drinks on a tray while Sally went to fetch the blanket she promised.  
As Greg approached the sofa he noticed Sherlock hastily wipe a tear away from his cheek and release his hold on John a little.  
“John, let’s have a cup of tea to settle our nerves.” His friend leaned back, wiping his face furiously before turning to greet Greg.  
John was grateful for the drink and, although he wouldn’t show it, so was Sherlock. He had found it heart wrenching to see his friend in such distress because of his actions. He just knew this was going to rear its ugly head this weekend, the nightmares had become so frequent. As soon as he saw the dormitory his heart sank, he had hoped for some privacy for John.  
Sally soon arrived with a warm blanket which she gave to Sherlock to drape over John and the four of them settled in to a light-hearted conversation about funny things that could go wrong with forensics. Soon John was chuckling away at some stories Greg was telling from the days when he first joined the police force.   
Sally yawned loudly and they agreed it was time to get back to bed. She and Greg stood to leave but Sherlock and John told them they would stay in the lounge for a while.  
Greg and Sally bid them good night and headed for the dormitory. As Sally opened the door she couldn’t help but take one last look back at the odd pair and nudged Greg to take a look as well. John was stretching the blanket over Sherlock and the two men snuggled in together. The detective turned the TV on quietly by the remote and they settled down, leaning against each other to watch some late-night telly.  
Greg and Sally shook their heads, bemused at the close friendship between the two and returned to their beds.

________________________________________________________________

Saturday

The sight that greeted Greg Lestrade as he entered the lounge the next day was a strange one. He was up at the crack of dawn, as usual, despite having been disturbed in the night. He was the first up and out of the dormitory and so the first to come across the consulting detective and his doctor, lying in a tangle of limbs asleep on the sofa.  
Greg rubbed his eyes sleepily and looked again to check that he had seen right. Yep, there they were… John flat on his back with Sherlock curled around his side, his head of wild curls nestled on John’s chest, arms and legs obviously entwined around each other under the blanket.  
Greg briefly considered taking a picture on his phone for leverage when the detective annoyed him in the future but quickly dismissed the idea as being too perverse.   
His next thought was that his officers would start waking soon and while the opportunity to poke fun at the softer side of Sherlock was very tempting, Greg wasn’t that cruel and decided to wake the pair before they were discovered by anyone else.  
The DI approached the sofa and felt almost embarrassed to be witnessing such a private and gentle moment between the two. He was sure they weren’t going to be thrilled at being woken up by him but this was definitely for the best.  
“Sherlock…. Sherlock.” Greg whispered, trying to rouse him without causing alarm.  
The detective just moaned quietly and snuggled deeper in to his friend’s embrace.  
Greg sighed and shook Sherlock’s shoulders gently. Suddenly grey eyes opened and stared at him, a scowl appearing quickly.   
“It’s early but the guys will be getting up for breakfast soon.” Greg continued to whisper “I’m sure you don’t want to be found sleeping on John like this.”  
Sherlock grunted and closed his eyes again.  
“Sherlock!” The DI exclaimed louder this time.  
“Don’t care.” Was his mumbled response.  
“I’m sure John would care though.”  
That got his attention. Sherlock eyed Lestrade again and released his hold on John, moving in to a sitting position. John yawned and stretched lazily as Sherlock’s movements woke him.  
“Morning” John mumbled with a sleepy smile on his face and reached out to stroke Sherlock’s hand.   
Sherlock smiled in response and then flicked his eyes to Greg to let John know he was there.  
“Oh.. Uh… Greg… wait, what time is it?” John sat up in a fluster.  
“It’s time you got up before the rest of my officers enter the lounge.”  
“Yeah, ok… thanks.” John looked away, incredibly embarrassed. Sherlock pulled him up by his hands and the two made their way back to the dormitory to change.   
Greg only just overheard John whisper to Sherlock “Oh my god that was so embarrassing” as they disappeared out of view. ‘This trip is getting really weird!’ he thought to himself.

At breakfast the main topic of conversation was which lecture to attend that morning.   
“You’ll be bored.” Sherlock stated with certainty.  
“Professor Mary Shooner is meant to be an excellent lecturer and I’m more likely to understand a lecture on biology than chemistry.” John defended his decision over the last of his scrambled eggs and salmon.  
“You know more than she does.” Sherlock paused as John let out a snort of laughter. “Honestly John, you should come to the ‘Analytical and Forensic Chemistry’ lecture, it will be much more interesting.”  
“I’ve already decided Sherlock. I’ll see you later.” The doctor took one last swig from his orange juice and took his tray back to the serving hatch.   
“You’ll be bored!” Sherlock called after him. 

Two hours later John Watson left the lecture hall feeling rather annoyed that Sherlock had been right and he had just sat through an extremely tedious 2 hour presentation on nothing of note or interest to him. How dull Professor Shoomer was!   
John was debating whether to attempt to lie to his friend about the usefulness of the lecture when he came across a large group of disgruntled people standing in a circle in the lounge.  
As he approached, Sally Donovan spotted him and called out. “John! John come here, we have to talk to you.”  
Feeling like he was walking in to an ambush, John entered the circle of police officers, all looking extremely angry.  
Everyone started talking at once…  
“You have to do something about him!”  
“Sort him out!”  
“I’m not standing for his behaviour all weekend.”  
“It was utterly ridiculous…”  
“The professor started crying”  
“…worst lecture I’ve ever had to attend!”  
“Woah, woah, calm down. What on earth’s happened?” John realised he had his hands in the air as a sort of surrender, what had Sherlock done?! “Sally… why don’t you start.”  
“He was awful John. That poor professor never stood a chance against Sherlock and his barrage of derogatory comments. He heckled the man constantly and turned him in to a nervous wreck.” Sally related angrily.  
Another officer stepped forward “No-one could get a word in edgeways. If Sherlock wasn’t asking ridiculous questions he was deducing the professor’s history or insulting his intelligence.”  
“Not only was it embarrassing,” Sally continued “But also a complete waste of time for everyone involved.”  
Greg Lestrade chose that moment to rock up and join the debate.  
“Guy’s I’ve just had a chat with Sherlock and told him that he has to keep quiet for the other lectures or he will be asked to leave.” The DI rubbed his hands over his face in a sign of frustration.  
“He should leave now!” “He’ll never be able to do that!” several people started shouting.  
Greg took a deep breath. “Regardless, I have given him a second chance and the ball is in his court now.” Greg took another steadying breath “Meanwhile I’ve got a professor having a mental break-down in lecture hall 1, so if you’ll excuse me…”  
John watched the inspector leave and tried to edge away without being noticed.  
“John you gotta have words with him.” Sally shouted after him. “If he won’t listen to you, then he aint gonna listen to no-one.”

John found Sherlock sitting on a wall outside. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the upcoming conversation as he sat on the wall next to his friend.  
“So on a scale of 1 to 10 how boring was the biology lecture?” Sherlock asked without looking at him.  
“10.” John decided not to lie, he had bigger things to discuss.  
“Sherlock, you’ve made a lot of people very angry today…”  
The consulting detective gave a derisive huff “As if I care what they think.”  
“…and you reduced a chemistry professor to tears.”  
“Not my fault that the man was clueless and based his facts around very suspicious evidence which he obtained in the most unprofessional manner.” Sherlock crossed his arms looking like a sulking child.  
“But you can control what you do and say. Even if the man is a moron and you don’t like his methods… you can’t ruin this experience for everyone else.” John spoke softly but firmly “I want you to try something for me.”  
Sherlock turned to his friend with questioning eyes. John pulled a note pad out of his pocket and handed it to him.  
“I want you to write down all the comments you feel like making in the next lecture. Then, at the end, if you want to approach the lecturer, you can do so privately and have their full attention.”  
Sherlock threw his hands in the air “REALLY John! That is the most idiotic idea I’ve ever heard of.”  
“If you don’t, then we’ll be asked to leave and I know you have a demonstration coming up tomorrow that you are very eager to see.” John maintained their eye contact firmly “I know you might find it ridiculous and that you’re probably thinking that you don’t need to write anything down as you’ll remember it. However I think the action of writing it down will channel your energy in to something useful rather than waiting for it to explode.”  
Sherlock held his gaze but remained silent.  
“Shall I start packing or are you going to give it a go?”   
Sherlock sighed, how annoying.

After a lunch fraught with scowls and murderous looks from the Scotland Yard bunch, John accompanied Sherlock to the next lecture with trepidation. He could understand their frustration with Sherlock, really he could, but it still upset him when people treated his friend like an unwelcome freak of nature.  
Taking their seats in the hall, Sherlock dutifully took out the notepad and a pencil, glaring at John as if to say ‘look, I’m doing as I’m told’. John smiled affectionately at his mad flatmate but inside he had strong doubts that this was going to work.  
As the lecture went on, lots of pencil scratching could be heard as Sherlock wrote furiously and almost constantly. The lecturer had obviously been aware of Sherlock’s earlier performance and kept glancing nervously at him as if he expected the detective to launch an attack any minute.  
A few times Sherlock made a noise as if he was going to speak but just managed to keep it under control in time. John was impressed, he knew this wasn’t easy for his friend. Sherlock did not like accommodating other people and their stupidity.   
At the end of the lecture, just as the man giving the presentation was heaving a sigh of relief, Sherlock leapt up and bounded across the hall to confront him with his note pad.  
John decided to leave him to it and filed out with the rest of the crowd.  
“Wow John! Whatever you said or did, it worked. I can’t believe it!” Greg congratulated him with a pat on the back.   
Other people passing him made similar noises and gave John looks of wonder and appreciation.  
John sighed, thankful that the lecture was over. He rather fancied a beer right now. “Join me for a drink Greg?”  
“This one is definitely on me.” Lestrade beamed and steered the doctor towards the bar.

 

Saturday Night

Later that evening, many of the guests were playing cards in the lounge, including Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson. The mood in the room was friendly and relaxing, with the pleasant background noise of people chatting and laughing together.  
The door to the lounge suddenly burst open and was slammed shut by a very irate looking Sherlock, startling all of the occupants in the room. They watched the dressing gown clad detective march across the room and throw himself on to a vacant armchair, legs dangling over the side and arms dramatically spread wide.  
The room went uncomfortably quiet as everyone stared at the scowling genius and then looked to each other with raised eyebrows.   
Greg looked at Sally as if to say ‘go talk to him’. Sally made a similar face to Greg.   
Greg won out and Sally gingerly approached the sulking man.   
“What’s up freak?” she said loudly.  
Greg sighed and glared at his subordinate.   
“Piss off.” Sherlock retorted and looked away.  
“Come on Sherlock, something’s obviously bothering you. What is it?” Sally tried again.  
“God! Why all the questions?” Sherlock sprang up in to a sitting position, his limbs jiggling and twitching anxiously. “We all know you don’t really care so why don’t you just leave me alone.” He ground out through clenched teeth.  
At that point an officer near the window called out “Hey! Where’s Doctor Watson off to?”  
Sherlock’s head snapped up at that and strode quickly across the room to look for himself, barging roughly past Sally on the way.  
“He just got in a taxi… there it is over there.” The officer pulled back the curtain further for everyone to see.  
Sherlock kicked the wall violently and stalked off to the dormitory, slamming the door behind him.  
“Think they’ve had a domestic?” Anderson commented, causing a smattering of laughter in the room.  
Greg pulled himself up and off the comfy sofa and grabbed Sally on his way to the dormitory. “Come on, let’s go see what’s happened.”  
“Why do I have to go?” Sally whined as she was pulled along.  
“I need moral support.”

It was pitch black in the dormitory so Greg pulled on a lamp switch near to where he knew Sherlock and John’s beds were. Once illuminated, the pair could see Sherlock sat on the top bunk holding his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked uncharacteristically upset which shocked the officers.  
“He’s left me!” he shouted angrily.  
“Why?” Greg thought it best to keep this simple.  
Sherlock didn’t look like he wanted to answer and turned his face away from his questioning gaze.  
“Have you two had an argument?” Greg asked calmly, despite feeling very frustrated at having to deal with Sherlock’s unpredictable nature… again.  
“What’s the point in discussing it with you two? He’s gone!”  
“You’re not used to having a close friend like John, are you Sherlock?” Sally pushed. “So maybe we can help you work out what you need to do to keep him as your friend.”  
Sherlock turned to assess the sincerity of Sally’s words. Seeing no deception or mocking in her face he decided to seek their advice after all. John was very important to him and maybe he needed another perspective. The detective didn’t delude himself that he knew what he was doing with regards to his relationship with John.  
“I wanted cigarettes and he refused to give me any.” He spat out angrily  
“John doesn’t smoke, why would he have any?” Greg asked.  
“He usually has some hidden somewhere. He knows that sometimes I need them.”  
“What happened when he didn’t give you any cigarettes?” Sally asked, though she suspected she knew how Sherlock had reacted.  
“I thought he was holding out on me so I persisted. Turns out John didn’t actually have any.” Sherlock clenched his hands into fists against his legs.  
“So you had a go at him? Greg accused, arms folded across his chest.  
“He should have brought some!” the detective yelled.  
“Hang a minute…” Sally intervened “Why haven’t you just asked someone here for a few… to tide you over?”  
Sherlock sighed heavily. “Because…” he ground out through clenched teeth “I already have an agreement with every smoker at the yard to not ever supply me with cigarettes, no matter how much I beg.”  
“That’s true, I can vouch for that!” Greg piped up. “He said he was going ‘cold turkey’ and he made us all sign an agreement.”  
Sally snorted “Well that was clever of you!”   
Sherlock threw himself backwards on to the bunk in frustration, his arms and legs splayed wide while Greg and Sally exchanged glances, not really knowing what to say to make the situation any better. No-one spoke for a moment or two until Sally decided it was time to address his treatment of John again.  
“Well Freak…” She began, walking closer to the bunk to stare at Sherlock’s petulant face. “You really do treat John like shit sometimes. It doesn’t surprise me one bit he’s buggered off in a huff. He must have the patience of a saint to put up with you.”  
Sherlock doesn’t respond, his eyes remain staring angrily at the ceiling, his mouth clamped shut tightly.  
“So my suggestion is very simple…” He turned to face Sally and gave her proper eye contact for the first time in the conversation.   
She continued, glaring back. “Apologise! Tell him how sorry you are to have upset him and admit that you were rude and out of order to speak to him like you did.”  
“Oh yes, it’s just that simple…” Sherlock snorted derisively.  
“If you don’t… and you keep treating him like this, well then maybe one day he won’t come back.” Sally’s words stabbed at Sherlock like a knife. He couldn’t even begin to imagine life without his blogger and best friend at his side.   
He was still staring at Sally, processing her warning, when Anderson appeared at the door.  
“Just to let you know… Doctor Watson is back.” He relayed with false pleasantry.  
The consulting detective hopped down off the top bunk and followed Anderson out of the door, with Sally and Greg in tow.  
Sherlock raced through the lounge just as John entered from the other side. Everyone stopped their conversations to observe what would happen next.  
John stood in the doorway dressed in his warm coat, eyeing the crowd in the lounge with trepidation… why had it gone so quiet?  
Then he saw Sherlock approaching him slowly with an intense look on his face.  
“Everything alright?” He asked nervously of everyone in general.  
Sherlock stopped about two meters from where John was standing and managed a more neutral expression on his face.  
“You’re back.” He stated.  
“Yeees…” John replied slowly, still looking around at the unexpected audience.  
Sally coughed and stared at Sherlock, encouraging him to take her advice from moments ago.  
“I owe you an apology John.” His voice lowered and he fixed John with his intense gaze again. “I shouldn’t have taken my nicotine withdrawal out on you earlier.”  
“No you probably shouldn’t.” John confirmed.  
“I was rude and out of order.” Sherlock repeated Sally’s words.  
John was starting to get seriously freaked out right now as silence pervaded the room and everyone watched with bated breath to see what his reaction would be.  
“You usually are.” He responded lightly. “Sorry… What’s going on?” John maintained a bemused expression while Sherlock seemed uncharacteristically lost for words.  
“He thought you were going to leave him!” Sally interjected and Sherlock threw her an annoyed look for her input.  
“You… you thought I was going to leave you?” John repeated. “Bloody hell Sherlock, what’s happened in the 15 minutes I’ve been gone?”  
“I was rude to you and you left.” Sherlock said, as if this was adequate explanation for the dramatic scene playing out in front of John.  
“Yes… yes I left. But I only went to the village down the road you berk!” John rummaged around in his coat pocket. “Here!” he tossed a small packet of cigarettes towards his mental friend. The silence in the room was replaced by gasps of disbelief.  
Sherlock stared at the item in his hand “You went to buy me cigarettes?” he asked quietly.  
“Oh my god Sherlock, what did you think? That I’d gone home because you had a paddy?” John asked laughingly, but looking at his friend’s face, he realised that his humour wasn’t shared.  
“Jesus you did, didn’t you?”   
Sherlock rushed to him suddenly and enveloped him in a crushing hug.  
“Thank you John, you’re amazing!” He pulled back just inches away from his face. “I don’t deserve you.” He added quietly.  
At this point John became acutely self-conscious knowing that people were watching and extricated himself from his friend.  
“Let’s get some air, huh?” John hustled Sherlock outside in to the cool evening air and shut the door on the prying eyes of those inside. 

They descended a set of stone steps which led down in to some formal gardens around the manor house and sat upon a wooden bench, obscured from view by a large Box Tree hedge.  
The doctor took a lighter out of his pocket and handed it to Sherlock, encouraging him to smoke in the hopes that this would calm his friend down.  
They sat in silence for a bit while Sherlock took a few long drags on his vice, savouring the nicotine rush.  
When John felt that Sherlock had calmed sufficiently, he spoke “Will you please explain what all that was about?”  
Sherlock exhaled another puff of smoke then looked straight in to his best friend’s eyes before answering. “Sally said that I treat you badly and that you would leave me.”  
“Since when do you listen to those idiots? Seriously Sherlock!” John tried to put the detective at ease.  
“I’m a difficult person to be around, let alone live with. Haven’t you ever thought about leaving and establishing a normal life away from the experiments, the body parts in the kitchen…”  
“… the death defying chases across London?” John added.  
“… a sociopathic flatmate.” Sherlock finished and looked down at the ground.  
“A normal life…” John said wistfully. “DULL!”   
Sherlock looked up at the doctor’s use if his favourite word, a small smile creeping on to his face.  
John decided to put a few things straight with his friend. “Look I’m sorry I didn’t anticipate bringing cigarettes with me this weekend, I should have realised that all this socialising with a large group of people would have you on edge. It’s not your thing and I understand that. That’s why I went to get you a packet from the village… I may not know exactly what it’s like to go through nicotine withdrawal but I am sympathetic.”  
“As for Sally’s comments… you surely know that I have felt so much more alive and happier since I moved in to Baker Street? I was alone and had nothing to live for before I met you. And while you may be a massive prick sometimes, I have absolutely no intention of leaving the mad consulting detective who keeps me on my toes and provides so much excitement.”  
John smiles at Sherlock reassuringly and receives a faint smile in return.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock says with sincerity. “I’m glad you’re not thinking of leaving Baker Street.” He puts out the cigarette and chucks it in to the manicured bushes, turning to face John on the bench. “I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend.”  
“I’ve had to live that already and I can tell you it’s not much fun.” John whispered, his face getting that far-away look as he recalled the months after Sherlock’s jump from St Bart’s roof.  
Sherlock grabs John’s hands in his own in a sudden need to reach out and remind his friend that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.   
John snaps back to reality and stares at the man holding his hands thoughtfully. Things had been a bit different since Sherlock’s return from the dead. They both seemed to appreciate each other more, wanted to spend more time together. John had even stopped dating, preferring to spend his evenings in 221b with his flatmate.  
Yes they were definitely closer since Sherlock came back and it felt a very natural extension of their friendship to want to hold the man close right now.  
“Come here you silly git.” John said softly, pulling Sherlock forward until his hands until they were around his waist, John settling his hands around Sherlock’s shoulders and resting his cheek against the detective’s. “I can’t believe you listened to Sally of all people. I’m not going anywhere.”  
Sherlock buried his face in the crook of John’s neck and placed a feather light kiss there.   
Suddenly the atmosphere of the hug changed. Sherlock could tell that John’s pulse had quickened and was sat very still. Being able to read John so easily, Sherlock was sure that this was where their relationship was headed. But it needed a nudge. Someone had to take the first step. He thought back to this morning on the sofa, when he was rudely awakened by Lestrade. Sherlock had been so comfortable and content lying with John last night, more so than he had ever felt with another person.  
Feeling more confident about his deductions on their relationship, Sherlock decided to press forwards and see if he could move it on to a more intimate level.  
He started kissing lightly and slowly over John’s shoulder and up his neck towards his ear, taking his time to savour this new experience and judge John’s reactions.  
John’s breath started coming in short pants. His eyes closed and he moved his head sideways to allow Sherlock easier access to his neck. It felt so sensuous and arousing and he felt totally swept away by the deluge of emotion.  
Sherlock moved to place delicate kisses around John’s jaw, his cheek, his nose and finally stopped just short of his mouth.  
John opened his eyes and only returned his friend’s heated gaze for a few seconds before closing the gap between them himself and kissing Sherlock passionately.  
They both moaned at the contact and feverishly started devouring each other with vigour, hands everywhere, grabbing, smoothing and stroking, learning the feel of each other in this new intimate way.   
They stayed this way for many minutes before the lack of oxygen and sensory over-load became too much and they reluctantly parted their swollen lips and returned to the hug position that they had started in, cheek to cheek and arms wrapped tightly around each other.  
“That was… amazing.” John sighed breathlessly in to Sherlock’s ear. “Why haven’t we done that before?”  
Sherlock took that to be a rhetorical question and hugged the doctor more tightly.  
“You’re shivering.” He stated.  
“It’s getting a bit cold out here actually.” John replied, snuggling deeper in to Sherlock’s neck.  
The detective made a snort like he didn’t believe him, but had to concede that the temperature had dropped somewhat since they had come outdoors.  
“Let’s get back inside.” He stood and held his hand out to John, who took it and leaned in close.  
“Sounds like a plan.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Upon returning to the lounge, the pair discovered a young police officer called Anna playing the piano in the corner. She had the rapt attention of everyone in the room as she softly played ‘Moonlight Sonata’, for which John was eternally grateful as it took the heat off of himself and Sherlock for a while.  
“She’s talented.” Sherlock whispered to John and took a seat on a sofa, pulling John down beside him.  
They relaxed and enjoyed the end of the recital and the room erupted in applause for the young pianist.   
“More!” people were shouting but Anna wasn’t having any of it.  
“Sorry guys, someone else needs to take the limelight now.” She grinned and found a place to sit near the fire.  
“You’re up next then Danny!” A burly officer bellowed across the room to his friend.  
There was a chorus of “Go on Danny!” from his colleagues and the man reluctantly sat at the piano to play ‘Le Onde’ by Einaudi.   
John and Sherlock relaxed to the beautiful music and with the fire, the dim lighting and warmth in the room, John could feel himself falling asleep against his friend. Sherlock remained wide awake gazing intently at the piano, appreciating the skill with which Danny was playing. He heard a contented sigh very close and looked to find John leaning against his shoulder with a sleepy smile on his face. The detective returned his attention to the pianist with a small smile of his own, leaning his head down slightly to rest next to John’s.  
At the end of the piece Danny bowed to the crowd’s applause and gave up the piano stool for someone else to have a go.  
There didn’t seem to be any eager takers as people realised that the bar had already been set very high and didn’t want to follow such a beautiful performance.  
Suddenly Sherlock was aware of his name being called. It was Lestrade.  
“Sherlock! You play the violin… can you play the piano as well?”  
“I can, but I do have my violin with me as it happens.” He answered.  
“Give us a rendition then? You’ve got quite a talent when you decide to play a piece properly.”  
“Let’s hear it!” “Yeah Sherlock play us some violin music!” the officers seemed keen to hear his supposed talent, though Sherlock suspected some just wanted to make fun of him.  
“Absolutely.” He agreed, pulled his arm from around John who had woken up by this point and walked to the dormitory.  
Once back with his violin, he set up near the fireplace and began to play ‘Romance’ from the Gadfly by Shostakovich. He had no music score with him, which was shocking enough for everyone, but even more so was the emotion he put in to the piece; the way he moved sensuously to the music and appeared lost in his own world with his violin.  
John was suddenly wide awake and rapt with attention. He loved hearing Sherlock play (when it wasn’t after midnight) but tonight his friend seemed to be more expressive than usual.   
At one point Sherlock looked up, his eyes fixed on John as he coaxed beautiful, romantic strains from the instrument. John couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to, feeling as if he was being sucked in to Sherlock’s pale eyes, drowning in their depth.   
His breath caught in his throat as he realised Sherlock was playing this piece for him; expressing himself musically as he couldn’t verbally. Thankfully no-one else seemed to have caught the eye contact between the two, as it was only fleeting. Once released from Sherlock’s gaze, John took a moment to look around the room and noted the faces of awe and appreciation on the officers.  
John smiled indulgently, it was nice to have the people who called Sherlock ‘freak’ see another side to the man. He liked knowing that he had a special connection with the consulting detective and knew aspects of his personality that very few people ever got to witness. It made him feel special, that he knew Sherlock so well and that Sherlock trusted him enough to let his guard down around him.  
The playing came to an end and there was a moments silence as people stared on in shock. Slowly they came back to earth and clapped loudly and cheered the detective for his efforts.  
Sherlock smiled and bowed, enjoying the attention for his musical ability rather than his deductions for a change.   
Lestrade walked up to Sherlock and motioned for him to follow him to the bar as someone else took to the stage.   
“I’m impressed! I’ve never heard you play like that before Sherlock. That was beautiful.” He gushed, nodding at John as he approached them.  
“Stunning!” John grinned brightly, making Sherlock blush a little at the praise.  
“What can I get you lads?” Greg asked propping himself up against the bar.  
“A bitter please, thank you Greg.” John replied.  
“A white wine for me.” Sherlock added.  
“Make that two pints of bitter and a white wine please.” Greg directed to the barman, then looked back to observe his companions. They were smiling and relaxed, a far cry from what he had witnessed earlier in the evening.  
“So you two look happier. I take it John doesn’t hate you then?” Greg teased Sherlock, smiling.  
“Apparently not, though he probably should.” Sherlock’s deep voice answered softly, his eyes darting to John quickly before averting them.  
“Good, we could do without any more drama this evening.” The DI accepted his pint from the barman and handed John and Sherlock their drinks.  
Sherlock stayed for half an hour while he drank his wine and then disappeared off somewhere, presumably for some peace and quiet or to visit his ‘mind palace’. John remained and chatted with Greg until 11pm when the DI announced that the he was off to bed, seeing as many other officers were heading that way.   
John retreated to the lounge and settled in to a comfy chair in front of the television, turning it on and watching a spoof horror movie from half way through.  
More people filtered out of the lounge and in to the dormitory, until John was left on his own.

Around midnight Sherlock appeared and sank in to a chair next to John’s.  
John turned to greet his friend and was surprised to find that the detective had already changed in to his pyjamas and dressing gown. “What have you been up to?” he asked.  
“Took a walk around the grounds. It was quiet.” Sherlock turned in his chair until he was facing John properly. “You haven’t gone to bed with the others.” He stated.  
John looked back at the TV screen. “No I’m not tired yet.”  
“You don’t normally have two nightmares in a row. You’re probably safe to go to bed in the dormitory tonight.”   
John sighed. Of course Sherlock would know what he was thinking. He should really stop being surprised by it. “I know. But still… I don’t want to embarrass myself again.”  
“So you’re going to stay awake all night?” Sherlock asked, his attention still focussed on John though his friend seemed adamant that he was going to watch the telly and not have this conversation.  
“You do it all the time and I’ve pulled enough all-nighters in the past. I’ll be fine.”  
“John.” Sherlock waited until he had his friend’s attention before he spoke again. “You are simply ill-equipped to deal with sleep deprivation. You become grumpy and slow and you won’t be able to assist me in the practicals tomorrow if you don’t sleep.”  
“What if I have another nightmare? I can’t take that chance.” John replied stubbornly, his desperation clear for Sherlock to see on his face.  
Sherlock appeared to think it through before carefully airing his idea. “What if I stayed with you tonight, on your bunk? That way if you start to dream I will know about it quickly and I’ll wake you.”  
John blushed at the thought of Sherlock staying in his bed. They had kissed for the first time just a few hours ago, wasn’t it a bit soon to be sleeping together already? Then again, they had slept together on the sofa last night… hmmmm…  
Sherlock waited patiently for John’s answer. He looked concerned for his friend and sincere in his attempt to help him.   
“Are you concerned about people seeing us sleeping together?” Sherlock broke the silence with no hint of annoyance or accusation in his tone.  
There was a pause… then “No actually.” John looked like he had surprised himself with that admission. He smiled shyly at Sherlock.  
The detective tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Then let’s go to bed.” He stood and held his hand out to John, who pressed the remote to turn the TV off before taking Sherlock’s hand and standing in front of the tall detective.  
“Thank you.” He whispered and leaned forward to softly kiss Sherlock on the lips. Sherlock tilted his head down and responded to the kiss gently. It was a brief interaction but it conveyed John’s trust and Sherlock’s support before they left for the dormitory hand in hand.

John finished changing and jumped up in to the top bunk to lie next to Sherlock. He was grinning like an idiot at getting the chance to sleep next to Sherlock. The object of his affection held up the quilt to let him slide in. Then long arms were wrapped around John, pulling him close.  
They lie facing each other for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the intimate embrace, Sherlock stroking John’s back, feeling the outline of his spine, his ribs and his shoulders.  
John reached up to fiddle lightly with the detective’s hair. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He confessed quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the others in the dorm.  
“There are some things I’ve wanted to do for a while…” Sherlock whispered in his deep voice. “But they are best left ‘til we get back to the privacy of Baker Street.” He smiled cheekily at John in the darkness.  
John bit his lip as he contemplated what these things might be, his hand sliding down to Sherlock’s neck. His breathing sped up as he traced Sherlock’s long neck and down to his collar bone. The detective’s eyelids fluttered shut and his lips parted in arousal. John took a deep breath before capturing Sherlock’s lips in a passionate kiss, drawing a quiet moan from both men.   
John pushed himself up and on top of Sherlock, maintaining the kiss while rubbing his thigh between the detective’s legs. Both their arousals became very apparent at this moment, causing Sherlock to break the kiss suddenly.  
“Go to sleep John.” He said breathlessly but firmly. “I promise to wake you if it looks like you’re having a nightmare.” Sherlock put a quick kiss on John’s forehead and released his hold on him slightly.  
The doctor groaned with frustration before reciprocating the action and settled on to his side with his back to Sherlock, trying to calm his breathing.  
“Goodnight John.” Sherlock whispered in to his friend’s ear as he lay his hand reassuringly on John’s waist. “Night Sherlock.” John replied, falling asleep within minutes.  
Sherlock remained awake for a long time, keeping an eye on John for any signs of distress, before falling asleep himself at about 3 in the morning.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday 

Lestrade woke to find his officers gathering down one end of the dormitory, whispering to each other. He hauled himself up and out of bed, stretched and made his way over to the group.  
“Anderson, what’s going on?” he whispered.  
“You are not going to believe this.” He replied “Take a look at the top bunk there… the freak and his side-kick…”  
“I’m getting closer for a photo!” someone whispered, whipping out their mobile phone.  
Greg had a bad feeling that he knew what the men were gawping at. Despite his annoyance with Sherlock most of the time, he felt bad that they were being watched and laughed at like this. John certainly didn’t deserve it.  
He took a look around at the mixture of sniggering and horrified faces of his fellow officers, several of whom now had their phones out to record the moment for prosperity, and decided he really didn’t like this situation.  
Anderson grabbed him by the arm and motioned for him to come to the front of the group to see what had drawn their attention. Greg’s suspicions were confirmed when he spied John Watson lying on his back with Sherlock curled up beside him, his head on John’s chest and their arms around each other. Both were sleeping peacefully through the commotion but Greg figured it was only a matter of time before they awoke to find themselves being observed like zoo animals.  
Greg sighed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before addressing the growing audience.  
It was at this moment that John began to stir, prompting the gatherers to hush suddenly. His head was angled towards Sherlock’s and the first thing he saw upon opening his eyes were the dark curly locks of his flatmate where they were resting on his chest.  
A small smile graced his lips briefly before somehow sensing that he was being watched. Slowly, he turned his head towards the rest of the room and his eyes went wide as he realised the number of people staring at him, holding up their phones.  
“What the bloody hell…” he began, in his raspy morning voice.  
“OK lads… that’s enough.” Lestrade interrupted. “Time’s ticking on. I want you all to get ready and head to breakfast. We’ve got a practical demonstration to attend at 9am.”  
He started shooing people away and physically manhandled a few more stubborn characters until they had all left John’s bedside.  
He turned to John with an apologetic look on his face.  
“Cheers Greg.” John sighed “I might have felt compelled to see them off more violently if left to my own devices.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on to the pillow.  
“No worries.” The DI replied softly, then started walking back to his bunk to get dressed. “However, you may want to think about getting up yourself. I know Sherlock was interested in the demo this morning.”  
“Yeah, thanks.” John murmured, wishing he could just stay in bed and catch up on the lost sleep of the last few nights.  
Tiredly he turned back to look at Sherlock. He really didn’t want to wake him, he was so comfortable like this. John gently brushed the detective’s long hair from his face and ran his hand through the curls as he had done the night before.  
Sherlock moved his head into John’s touch then opened his eyes sleepily. He smiled as he took in the army doctor’s rumpled, sleepy appearance and felt an over-whelming desire to get even closer to that handsome face.  
Lifting himself up slightly on to his elbows, Sherlock bent down for a gentle and languorous kiss. John submitted to his lead and melted in to the relaxed embrace, immediately forgetting everything else around him.   
It only took a matter of seconds for the kiss to become more heated as the pair indulged in the still new sensations of being able to kiss and touch each other. John rolled them on to their sides for a minute before pushing Sherlock on to his back and straddling him without breaking contact with his lips.  
Suddenly John’s hips are grinding down onto Sherlock while plundering his mouth with his tongue. The detective’s legs rose up to wrap around the doctor’s waist, desperate to hold him close and increase the delicious contact. Hands and lips are everywhere as they try to touch and taste everything they can within reach.  
John lifts Sherlock’s t-shirt to run his hands up that gorgeous, smooth stomach and chest, then drags his fingertips lightly back down until he’s teasing underneath the edge of Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms.   
Meanwhile Sherlock is trying to pull John’s top over his head, forcing the doctor to stop his ministrations momentarily so that he could fling the offending item off.  
They return their attention to each other’s mouths, Sherlock’s hands clawing at John’s back as John resumes his quest to tease Sherlock moving his fingers lower and lower under his trousers but never going so far as to touch him intimately.   
This action brings about a series of desperate moans from the inexperienced detective as his thighs begin to shake with tension and arousal. John continues his assault on Sherlock’s mouth, swallowing his breathy moans and moving his hand lower to stroke at the sensitive area of thigh just shy of where Sherlock was silently begging to be touched. He longed for it so much his groin ached and a wet patch formed on his pyjama bottoms where he strained against them.   
John was hard as a rock and loving every minute of their foreplay. He suspected Sherlock hadn’t been with anyone for a long time and wanted to draw out his sweet torture for as long as possible. The detective was already putty in his hands and he wasn’t going to give this feeling up in a hurry.  
Well that’s what he thought, until a discreet cough nearby brought him back to reality and he remembered where they were.   
With a massive flush of embarrassment he pulled his lips away from his new bed partner and turned to find Greg Lestrade staring wide-eyed at them. Sherlock hadn’t caught on or didn’t care and tried to pull John back down for more but the doctor was having none of it.  
“Hey, hey Sherlock… stop…” John whispered loudly, distracted by the detective’s teeth latching on to the side of his neck to nip and suck on the sensitive skin.  
John groaned in frustration but he had to put a stop to this.  
“No, seriously Sherlock… Lestrade is right there!” He pushed against his friend in earnest until Sherlock emerged from his hazy aroused state to realise what was going on around him.  
Lestrade remained routed to the spot. He wanted to move, honestly, but the scene in front of him had him morbidly transfixed. John sat astride Sherlock, topless and out of breath with love bites appearing around his neck and collarbone. Sherlock underneath him looking frazzled and equally out of breath. Both staring at Lestrade, unsure of what to do or say next.  
Lestrade decided to propel them in to action “You gonna put some clothes on and come to breakfast or what?” He raised one eyebrow at their antics, sporting an amused look now rather than the horrified expression from moments ago, and walked purposefully out of the dormitory.  
“Jesus that was embarrassing!” John sighed and collapsed on to the bed next to Sherlock.  
Sherlock didn’t say anything, just stared up at the ceiling catching his breath.  
“You ok?” John asked softly.  
“I think you’ve broken my brain.” He replied breathlessly.  
John smiled at that. “So I’ve found a way to stop you thinking huh? Must keep that in mind for times when you’re annoying me.”  
Sherlock chuckled lightly, coming out of his daze and turning to his partner. “You are amazing John. Never believe otherwise.”  
John didn’t know how to take such an honest compliment from his usually sharp-tongued friend, he blushed and stared at Sherlock’s chest unable to meet his eyes.  
“Come on then, you need breakfast and I need to get ready for this morning’s lab demo.” Sherlock nudged John fondly and promptly leapt from the top bunk, pulling his day clothes on.

 

The professor stood at the front of the laboratory having just demonstrated how to use a new powder suspension to get finger prints from previously difficult objects such as fabrics and even food. The mood in the room was very positive as everyone seemed impressed by the latest advances in finger-printing; even the renowned Sherlock Holmes.  
The professor continued “So now there’s time for you to practice the techniques I have shown you today …” John snuck a glance at his partner and fought a smirk when he saw Sherlock was almost salivating at the prospect.  
“and to add a bit more fun in to proceedings, I want you to compete in pairs to see who can get the best finger-prints in 30 minutes. Enjoy!” The professor grinned at all present and walked around the room helping people to set up their stations.  
Sherlock immediately bounded off to secure a work station, leaving John to catch him up as usual. The doctor watched him set up with some trepidation. Sherlock was, if nothing else, highly competitive. This meant that Sherlock would be in a fantastic mood if successful but a full-on strop was never far away should things not go to plan.   
“John, set this up.” He realised he needed to pay attention now and help his mad detective so he briskly got to work.

 

“John, John, John… what are you DOING?” Sherlock’s peeved voice rang out loudly in the laboratory.  
“What? I… er… you said…” John Watson stumbled over his words as he tried to grasp what it was he had done wrong.  
“The pink solution goes in to the clear vial and the blue solution in to the cloudy vial… honestly John a five year old could follow those instructions!” Sherlock grabbed the vials from John’s reach and threw the contents down the sink. “You will have to start all over again!”  
John just huffed in response and set about cleaning the vials to be re-used. He didn’t know why but he just couldn’t concentrate very well this morning. The last 10 minutes had been filled with exclamations of “John stop that!” and “Dear God why must you be such an imbecile?” and his personal favourite “Hurry John, hurry! There are amoebic life forms that move faster than you!”   
Sherlock didn’t speak to John for many minutes but then the doctor thought it had more to do with the detective being focussed on the task rather than being annoyed with him. He silently carried out the instructions given to him earlier and then waited for Sherlock to let him know how he could assist further.  
As John looked around he observed that most of the Scotland Yard officers were working diligently, though the people nearest him were shooting him pitying looks and making faces at the rude detective’s behaviour. Obviously they had heard him shouting earlier.  
John hated being pitied, and he especially hated it when it was wholly unjustified. Why did people find his and Sherlock’s relationship so difficult to understand? The man is a genius, sure a fairly immature one at that, but still brilliant and deserving of their respect. He glared at some of the people still gazing his way, in the hopes that they would get a life and stop ogling at the pair.  
“Ah… excellent!” Sherlock’s elated whisper broke through John’s thoughts. “Come see this John… we’re already getting some fantastic results from this apple!”  
John stood behind his flatmate and looked over his shoulder at the finger prints emerging.   
“They look great…” John started.  
“…and we still have 10 minutes to attempt an even better print! Quickly… grab the remaining chemicals. I have an idea as to how we could improve the powder suspension even further.” Sherlock clapped his hands as if to say ‘chop chop, get on with it’, gaining more negative attention from the officers in the lab.  
John groaned having been convinced that they had finished in the lab already and head back over to the mess of bottles and vials on the bench.  
“Hey Freak!” John heard Sally Donovan’s high pitched voice and turned to see her rapidly approaching their workspace.  
“You know… this exercise aint just about science; it’s also about teamwork yeah? “   
“Then why, pray tell, are you not at your bench helping your team mate out?” Sherlock spoke while continuing his observations through the microscope in front of him.  
“I’ve been watching you, we all have… how you treat John…” Sally tried to argue.  
Sherlock looked up abruptly and continued as if she hadn’t spoken “Then again perhaps your partner will be able to achieve more without your presence. You are most likely doing her a great favour by leaving her to it. Maybe that is a true example of good teamwork…”  
“He’s your only friend, hell, he’s apparently your boyfriend but you still …”  
The sound of glass breaking and a sharp yell of pain from John tore them abruptly from their argument.  
“Jesus… bloody… shit, shit, shit!” John was holding his arm, his face screwed up in his attempt to deal with his pain without shouting out.  
Sherlock was up and by his side inspecting the wound in seconds.   
“Has he hurt himself on the glass?” Sally called.  
“No… he has chemical burns from the contents of the broken bottle.” Sherlock grabbed the cuff of John’s ruined shirt and tore it quickly up to his elbow to reveal the burnt area around his wrist.  
“Jesus!” the doctor gasped and stumbled backwards in to the bench.  
Sherlock steadied his flatmate and pulled him over to the sink. “This will hurt John but we need to wash away the remaining chemicals on your skin.” The cold tap was turned on and he thrust John’s arm underneath the water and held him there.  
John gritted his teeth against the pain, leaning back against Sherlock’s chest for support. He tried to control his breathing and calm down as the cold water numbed his wrist. Sherlock’s head was rested gently on his left shoulder, the detective’s arms encircling the shorter man in a comforting way but keeping a firm grip on the wounded arm under the tap. John could hear Sherlock whispering words of encouragement and telling him that it would be ok soon.   
“John, are you alright?” Sherlock turned his head towards the doctor’s cheek.  
“Yeah… fuck that hurts though.” John replied breathlessly. “Thank you for acting so quickly. I lost my head a bit there.”  
“Completely understandable, even if you are an ex-army doctor.” Sherlock tried to inject some humour in to his voice and it appeared to work as John managed a small smile.  
Sally appeared at their side to tell them that the hotel’s first-aider was here. They inspected the chemical burn and decided that he could clean the wound and wrap it without the need to go to hospital immediately. John was sat on the floor with Sherlock kneeling behind him, arms still around him and providing support while the first-aider tended to his wrist.   
As they finished up, Lestrade had just managed to get rid of the on-lookers until it was just himself, Sally, Sherlock and John with the first aider.   
“You should go get that looked at soon, to make sure that the skin is healing properly and that there’s no infection. You’ll probably be left with an impressive scar though.” John thanked the first-aider for his efforts and promised to as he had advised.  
“Do you want to stand up?” Sherlock looked unsure as to whether the doctor should move or not; he was obviously suffering a little from shock.   
“Yeah, let’s get off this floor. I wouldn’t mind heading to the dorm though… feeling a little light-headed.”  
Sherlock hooked his hands under John’s armpits from behind and Greg helped by pulling on the hand on his good arm. Together they got him standing and walking slowly out of the lab.

Sherlock left John to doze peacefully in the dormitory, vowing to check in on him frequently in case he developed any more signs of shock. He closed the door to the dorm gently behind him and threw himself in to an armchair in the lounge.  
“You look pretty rough.” Commented Greg as he took a seat opposite him. “Don’t usually see you so shaken up.”  
“It is incredibly unpleasant to see John in pain.” Sherlock stated with a glazed look in his eyes.  
“Well the first-aider said that you did all the right things for a chemical burn. I’m sure it could have been a lot worse.”   
“Certainly.”   
“He’ll be alright Sherlock. Just relax.” The DI tried to comfort him. “What time are you boys heading back to London?”

 

John and Sherlock relaxed in the back of the taxi as it sped towards the train station. They both agreed that they couldn’t get home fast enough after the events of the weekend.  
John sighed and closed his eyes as Sherlock pulled him close on the back seat, putting his arm around his shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to the doctor’s cheek.   
At least they had finally taken that step and changed their relationship in the way they had both secretly wanted. Despite the craziness at the hotel, they would always be grateful that they had attended this particular conference weekend … though they would never feel compelled to attend such an event in the future. It was just too dangerous, Sherlock had said, better stick to chasing criminals across London.


End file.
